Choosing Birthdays
by RubiscoTheGeek
Summary: A collection of one-shots about 10.5 and Rose.
1. Choosing birthdays

**This is a collection of stand-alone chapters about 10.5 and Rose. They'll be published as they're written, so they might not be in chronological order, but hopefully it won't be confusing - and you're Doctor Who fans, you should be used to that sort of thing ;) And I don't own Doctor Who, it belongs to the clever people at the BBC.**

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><p>She was stretched out on her side, watching him lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling. Her fingertips traced light patterns over his bare chest. He had his deep-in-thought face on, the one that had always made her quietly move to the seat in the console room and let him think in peace. However, since she could be fairly sure that for once the fate of an entire planet did not rest on his shoulders, she decided to ask what was going on underneath that really great hair.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" Rose said quietly.

In the pause before he answered, she suddenly thought, what if it was her? What if he had changed his mind about this strange situation? What if –

"I think I need to come up with a backstory. A human backstory, I mean."

"What?" she replied, somewhat thrown by this.

The Doctor shifted in the bed, turning towards her. "I need a short, human history to tell people if I don't want to give them a 10 minute lecture involving Gallifrey, the TARDIS and metacrises."

"It is a bit complicated," she said with a smile.

For a minute they simply grinned at each other.

"You need a name," Rose said finally.

"John Smith," came the quick reply.

She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he cried, his voice getting a little higher, with an offended look on his face.

"Well, don't you want to choose something a little more... original?"

"That name has got me through seven centuries of time and space travel!"

"Alright!"

Not wanting to let the moment get awkward, he leaned over and kissed her.

When they broke apart, she whispered, "So what should I call you?"

"Whatever you want to call me," he murmured, and kissed her again.

"I might call you both, just to keep you on your toes," she said in a teasing voice. "So, that's name covered. How old are you?"

"905."

"How old are you, _John_?"

"How old do I look?"

"35, maybe? I'm never good at judging age though."

"Me neither. How... I never asked... How old are you now?"

"26."

"Are you alright with a nine year age gap?"

"Doctor, I was alright with a 900 year age gap," she sighed, snuggling into him.

Her ear was pressed against his chest, and she listened to the beat of his single heart. She had done that a lot over the past three weeks, reminding herself that they really did have each other for the rest of their lives.

"Then I'm 35. What else do I need?"

"A birthday."

"26th of March" he said immediately.

Surprised at the speed of his answer, she rolled back so she could look at him.

"Is that the Earth equivalent of your Gallifreyan birthday?"

"Gallifreyan dates can't really be translated to Earth dates, the calendars are too different."

Seeing that he was about to launch into a probably interesting, almost certainly long, ramble about the intricacies of the Gallifreyan calendar, she quickly cut him off.

"So why that day?"

"You mean you don't remember?" he asked, grinning.

Rose frowned. "Remember what?"

"You were angry enough about it at the time."

"What did you do?"

"I blew up your job, in your words."

The Doctor's grin got bigger as her eyes widened in understanding.

"That was the day we met."

"Can I use it as my birthday?"

"Of course," she said, and kissed him passionately.

His arms wrapped around her and her fingers wound into his hair.

"Those are... the basics... the rest... can wait," he murmured between the kisses he was trailing down her neck.

"Definitely."


	2. Swipe cards and assistants

"Here is your office."

She walked in ahead of him and stood by the desk, gesturing to the spacious, modern room.

"I hope it is to your liking?" she asked, from a sense of etiquette rather than genuine concern for his happiness, he thought.

"Oh, yes, it's... fine." Smaller on the inside, he finished in his head.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no, just... well, not used to walls, I guess," he grinned.

Her face remained smooth and impassive. He cleared his throat awkwardly. She reached into the pack she was holding in her neatly manicured hands.

"Here is your swipe card – keep it with you at all times."

He took the card. The photo had been taken earlier that day. He had tried to remain serious – this was a serious card, after all – but Rose had been standing behind the photographer, and the first twitches of a smile were fighting the corners of his mouth. _Dr. John Smith _was printed underneath.

"This card is required to open many of the doors throughout the Torchwood Institute. Staff are also always required to carry identification, this being one of the accepted forms."

"Right."

Placing the pack on the desk, she began talking about car parking spaces, the telephone system, the computer system, the lifts... He zoned out fairly quickly. Office work was going to take some getting used to.

"... but of course, your assistant will handle that."

"My what?"

"Your assistant," she repeated. Seeing his blank face, she gave a humourless smile. "You are a senior Torchwood advisor. There will be plenty for you to do without worrying about photocopying."

"So, who is my assistant?"

"That is the next thing to decide." He tried to remember anything else she had asked him to decide since she had met him at reception almost an hour ago. "We have many talented people working at the Torchwood Institute. I will arrange some meetings and then you can make your choice."

"Can I request someone now?"

"Of course."

"She, uh, doesn't work here."

For the first time, his guide looked a little ruffled.

"Well, that... You can hire someone external, but they will have to pass the usual Torchwood vetting procedure."

"What does that include?" He leant on the edge of the desk, tucking his swipe card inside his brown suit.

"At least two interviews, stringent background checks, a psychological evaluation –"

"What do you need all that for?" he exclaimed.

"We deal with many unusual objects here. We must be sure that all employees will be able to cope with anything they might see and not compromise the security of the Institute."

"I don't remember being put through all that."

"Mr Tyler felt that it was unnecessary in your case," she replied coolly. Clearly she did not agree with such a breach of protocol. She seemed like a very rigid person. Surely no-one could stand that straight for so long, he thought. And how did her tailored skirt suit stay without a single crease?

"I'm sure she'll pass whatever you put her through."

"What is her name?"

"Donna Noble. Daughter of Geoffrey and Sylvia. Best temp in Chiswick."

"Very well. Is there anything else you need?"

"Nope, don't think so," he grinned at her again. She smiled politely back.

"Mr Tyler will be along shortly to brief you about your first assignment. I will pass this to Personnel and they will contact Ms Noble. Welcome to Torchwood, Dr. Smith."


	3. Jack is a dangerous name

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Rose cooed to the bundle of fur in her arms.

The Doctor wrinkled his nose.

"He's a cat."

"So? You suggested getting a pet."

"I thought we were coming here to look for a dog!"

"But look at him."

The Doctor looked at the cat curled in Rose's arms, which gazed back at him, purring.

"See? He likes you," Rose smiled, scratching the cat behind his ear.

"You really want a cat? Even after New Earth?"

"That was a long time in the future. I don't think this one has evolved that far."

The Doctor didn't seem convinced, still watching the cat suspiciously.

Rose put on her best puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

"But Ro-ose..." he whined.

"You know what I think? You're jealous."

"Why would I be jealous of a cat?"

"He's ginger." She tickled the cat under the chin.

"I could be ginger if I wanted to!"

Rose decided to change tack. When she looked back up at the Doctor, there was a gleam in her eyes.

"What if I said I'd make it up to you?"

She could tell his resolve was wavering. Moving closer, she said in a low voice, "Let's get the cat. I promise it'll be worth it."

He held out for a few more seconds, before –

"Oh alright! But I'm keeping my eye on him!" he said firmly, pointing a finger at the cat.

"Thank you!" She kissed him on the cheek. "What shall we call him? I think he looks like a Jack."

"No way. We are not giving him any ideas of how to cause trouble."


	4. It shines

He was trying to put together her new toy castle, but it was causing him some trouble. His hair was standing on end from the number of times he'd run his fingers through it. He was muttering under his breath, something about instruction manuals and a translation matrix. She put down her wooden horses and went to sit next to him.

"Everything alright?" he asked distractedly, turning the manual upside down.

She paused for a moment, then asked him the question she'd been thinking about.

"Daddy, where are you from?"

He looked up sharply.

"What?"

"Well, Mummy's from London, but Jessie's mummy is from Sheffield and Rachel's daddy is from Glasgow and Louis says his mummy's from France. So where are you from?"

He let out a long breath and ran his hand over his jaw.

"I'm... from a long way away."

"Even further than France?"

"Yes, even further than France."

"Where?"

"Gallifrey." And his eyes were full of love and pride and sadness all at the same time.

"That's a funny word."

He gave a small smile.

"What's it like there?"

He pulled her on to his lap.

"The sky is orange, like at sunset but all day. The grass is red-"

"Red! Grass isn't red!" she giggled.

"Gallifrey's grass is. The trees have silver leaves that catch the light. You can see the forests glinting from miles and miles away. And behind them the purple and gold mountains stretch to the horizon."

"It sounds pretty."

"It is. It shines."

She snuggled into his chest. He was using the same voice he used to tell her bedtime stories, and it made her feel sleepy.

"I'd like to go to Gallifrey."

"I want to take you there, more than anything," he murmured. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.

She felt a drop of water land in her hair. She thought maybe he was crying, but she didn't understand why.


	5. Flipping Pancakes

The Doctor hung his coat up and wandered towards the kitchen, loosening his tie as he went. He'd been called in to work before dawn, but it was now early evening, and he was very hungry.

"Rose?" he called, pushing open the kitchen door.

Sat on the table were a bowl of lemons, the sugar jar, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a bowl of strawberries, and a bunch of bananas.

Rose appeared from the living room and kissed him.

"How was work?"

"Long."

"Well, I think I might be able to cheer you up. Do you know what today is?"

"No?"

"It's pancake day!"

She took whipped cream from the fridge and vanilla ice cream from the freezer, then a large bowl covered in a tea towel from the cupboard. He followed her to the table, where she whipped the tea towel away like a magician. He gazed at the thin creamy batter.

He didn't have the look of excitement pancakes gave to almost everyone Rose knew.

"Doctor, you have had pancakes before, right?"

"Nope."

"900 years and never had pancakes?"

He nudged her in the side.

"I've done plenty of other things!"

"Well, prepare for one more."

He watched curiously as she heated a few drops of oil and ladled batter into the pan. After she'd peered at the underside of the pancake, she put down her spatula and shot him a wicked grin.

"You might want to stand back."

Rose moved away from the stove to give herself plenty of room, shook the pan to check the pancake was loose, then with a jerk of her wrist, sent the pancake up into the air.

The Doctor gasped. Rose deftly caught the pancake, now the other way up, and returned it to the stove.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Ooh, nice to know humans still have some skills to surprise a Time Lord," she giggled, kissing his cheek. He caught her around the waist.

"You surprise me all the time."

"Do you want to learn to flip them?"

"Yes."

It took several tries and a few pancakes lost to the floor before he had the knack. When they had got enough, Rose moved the plate with the whole stack from the oven to the table.

"For my next pancake day lesson: toppings!"

After starting with the classic lemon juice and sugar, they had great fun experimenting. Rose decided she favoured strawberries, ice cream and whipped cream. The Doctor, not surprisingly, preferred a whole peeled banana wrapped in a pancake, liberally drizzled with chocolate sauce.

Their debate on the merits of each, with much laughter (probably fuelled by all the sugar they had just eaten), began to spiral when Rose picked up the whipped cream can and aimed it at the Doctor.

"You wouldn't."

She raised her eyebrow. After staring at her for a few seconds, he grabbed the chocolate sauce bottle and pointed it at her.

They remained in stalemate, both trying to stare the other down.

His fingers twitched on the bottle.

She attacked first, firing cream at him. He ducked and slid out of his chair, hurrying across the kitchen, Rose pursuing him, covering him with cream.

He suddenly spun around, squirting her with chocolate. She squeaked and stopped her whipped cream assault as she turned away.

He seized his chance and launched himself at her. Dropping the bottle, he began tickling her ribs and stomach.

"No, stop it! Not fair!" she shrieked through her laughter.

He knocked the cream can out of her hands. They fell to the floor, the Doctor still tickling her as she tried to bat him away.

Finally, he caught her wrists and trapped them on the floor.

Breathing hard as their laughter died down, they became away that he was on top of her and pinning her down.

"Rose," he said hoarsely.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I love pancake day."


End file.
